Almonds and Cyanide Have the Same Flavor
by SkittleSKS
Summary: AU: (V/B) Vegeta is leading the Saiyans in civil war against the other dwellers of Vejitasei, the False Saiyans. But, does he get more than he bargained for when he finds that Bulma leads the False Saiyans? *Chapter 6 update!*
1. We Need a High Ground

AN:  This is a prequel to "Cleaving of Emotion."  While it's not necessary to have read "Cleaving" beforehand, it may help you to understand why I'm choosing to focus on small things that may not seem important to this story. I've powered up a few people, but it won't throw off the balance.  I won't have anyone stronger than Vegeta.  Well, in proper form, no one will be. That said, let's go!

Arms up over his head, Michio crouched down to protect him from the onslaught of plaster and paint chips that sprayed inward, towards his covered head and body.  When the unnatural implosion calmed down, Michio stood up, ignoring the mocking laughter of the floating figure outside.  Sprinting, Michio outran another blast, loose clothes whipping behind him, barely evading the gray haze of stucco and drywall that swirled behind him.  

Michio dove, his dark hair swinging wildly, and tucked himself into a roll, coming up in front of a simple looking machine that was obviously connected to an outer mechanism.  Without hesitation, Michio grabbed the two metal bars on the front of the human-sized box, and powered up.  Screaming, he pumped his energy into the machine, feeling the machine whir to life, and hearing the outside generators kick on.  A blink of a pink light, once, twice, and then a domed shield formed over the partially destroyed building, protecting it from further assault.  

The figure outside snorted, and floated to the edge of the shield.  "You'll never stop the Saiyans, imposters!  We will overcome!"  A blue aura formed around him, and he flew off, leaving the building alone.  

Michio slumped, energy sapped.  Leaving his hands on the metal bars to continue powering the defense system, he sagged to his knees, devastated.  These power shields could only be held up for so long, and only while a person has enough ki to continue feeding the insatiable appetites for energy they had.  Unfortunately, he mused, their energies would not be enough to defeat the Saiyans by themselves.  They needed something more.  A leader, a person with enough resources and intelligence to lead the False Saiyans into combat.  The future of their lives was at stake, and Michio knew that the Saiyans and their King didn't play anything halfheartedly.  It was only time before they would turn their full attentions to the "False Saiyan" problem.  And then, then, they would be doomed.

___________________

Toshiro stretched out a tattered map across the long, polished table.  "That is the third direct assault in the past week.  The Saiyans are becoming more aggressive."  His hand tapped three islands on the charted map.  "Here, here, and here.  I'm not seeing a pattern."  

An older man stood, and peered at the map, his clear green eyes narrowing.  "I am.  It's following where the False Saiyans started arriving.  If that holds, we're four away."  He ran a hand through his salt and pepper reddish hair, letting it fall down to frame his face.  "Four strikes before we're under siege.  They want to systematically wipe us out."

Years ago, a group of Saiyan "extinguishers" had returned from the planet Jorage after a successful mission.  In their celebration, many had returned home to their wives.  The combination of celebratory wine, and being able to see their mates after a year had led to the conception of many children in a short time.  However, when these children had been born, there had been a problem.  These children had a very low power level, hair that lay flat, and were more dependent on their mother's care than normal Saiyan children.  A counsel was called, and it was determined after years of study that something in the planet Jorage's makeup was harmful to Saiyan reproduction, as every one of the males that had been on Jorage had come back to produce a "problem child."

A second counsel was held, and it was proclaimed that these "False Saiyans" would be sent to live on a remote corner of Vejitasei, away from proper Saiyans.  The high ranking members of the counsel assumed that with their weak ki levels, the False Saiyans would die out in weeks, and that the problem would then be resolved.  

However, as those who had been caring for the False Saiyans had inferred, their weak ki levels had been masking a prominent feature inherent to most of the False Saiyans: a brilliant mind.  Working together, the false Saiyans flourished on their island, and maintained a sizable population for years.  Over time, the false Saiyans began abandoning their Saiyan heritage, and embracing their new paths, creating rather than destroying.  They took names that differed from traditional Saiyan names, and remained isolated for years, with the common Saiyan populace not even knowing of their existence.

Until now.  A Saiyan scout had been flying over the planet, and happened to spot a skyscraper off in the distance.  When he had reported it back to the King, King Vegeta and his son, Prince Vegeta, determined on the spot that it was time to eliminate the false Saiyans before their presence and advancements threatened their way of life.  

"Rinji?"  Toshiro asked his leader.  "What should we do?"

"I have an idea."  A woman stood, pointing to a mountainous area of the false Saiyan territory.  "If we build outposts there, we can see them coming, and have people ready on the defenses before they can attack our home base here."

Rinji pursed his lips and looked at the blue-haired young woman, and then at the map.  "Bulma, you know that they can move so fast that it's near impossible for most of us to see them."

Bulma smiled, and pulled a small machine out of her bag.  "I've been working on something to counter that," she boasted.  Slipping the machine over one eye, she looked at an old man.  "Power up, Master Roshi," she requested.  The grizzled warrior frowned, and began to power up.  Bulma pressed a button, and a stream of numbers began flowing over the semi-opaque green eyepiece.  "Now, fly outside where we can't see you."  

Puzzled, but curious, Master Roshi flew outside, and hid behind a blue beam.  "Alright, I'm ready."

"OK, you're behind the blue beam, and at about three-fourths power, if I recall your maximum correctly," Bulma assessed.  

Touching down, Roshi walked back into the conference room, mouth agape.  "How'd you do that?"

"My latest invention," she said with more than a hint of pride.  "I call it a scouter.  It tracks and measures ki levels."

"Fascinating," the blond Toshiro muttered.  

"So," Bulma continued, "if we build towers, we can equip watchmen with these to scan for any passing Saiyans to alert us of any trouble."  She removed the scouter from her eye.  "Rinji, if you could start construction on the towers on the three highest peaks."  Rinji nodded.  "And Master Roshi, I want you to select a small team for elite missions.  We're going to need to do something drastic if we want morale to shift in our favor."

Roshi's eyebrows furrowed.  "Alright.  I choose Krillin for strength, Toshiro for speed, Yamucha for stealth and undercover work as he most physically resembles a Saiyan, and Kentaro as an overall warrior."  Bulma murmured in agreement.  As much as she hated to see Yamucha's life risked in combat, she had to agree to let her boyfriend fight for the sake of her people.

"What do you plan to turn the tide, Bulma?"  Rinji crossed his arms over his chest.  Bulma may be a technical genius, but her tactics sometimes left much to be desired.  

"I don't know yet, Rinji."  Bulma leaned back in her chair.  "But, I do know that if we can thwart their plans a few times in a row through those lookouts, they'll get desperate.  And, that's when we strike.  Their desperation will leave them open.  I trust you to take care of the details."

"Right.  And our spy will report back, I'm sure."  

"Alright, then.  We start now."


	2. Why Not Just Kill Them All?

AN:  Dang, it's hard to come up with vegetable pun names.

Shards of cobalt exploded outward violently, the ceramic splintering apart like frail wood.  Another trail of light, and another vase burst, its pieces scattering about in a circular manner.  Before a third ki blast could be launched, the destroyer stopped, pausing to feel the air around him.  His tail slowly wound its way around his waist as he crouched a bit, flexing his knees in preparation to attack.  

Just as the feeling came, he let it go.  This person wouldn't harm him.

"Prince!  Your highness!  Are you there?"

Snorting, Vegeta turned and slapped the button that slid the door to his room open.  "Yes, Occoli.  What do you want that is so important as to disturb me?"

The poor messenger's eyes widened as he quickly took in the sight of the demolished pots and assorted decorative items.  Running a hand through his neatly spiked hair, Occoli bowed and dared not meet the Prince's eyes.  Shooting the messenger was not just a figure of speech here, and especially not when dealing with the Prince.  "Your father wishes to see you in the War Room, sir.  I believe he said it was about the False Saiyans."

Vegeta raised one eyebrow, slowly.  "You believe," he emphasized sarcastically.  Vegeta slowly paced in a circle around the young servant.  "Why do you not know?"  His tail uncurled from his waist, and he let it lazily flick back and forth.  "Did you not pay attention?"  Eyes wide in mock concern, the Prince waited for a response.

_Don't show fear, don't show fear._  Trying to contain his shaking, Occoli stammered, "No..no sire.  I was sent away before the full details were given.  I would always try to do right by you, your Highness."

"Really.  And here I thought that you were just too scared shitless to stay in the room with my father for longer than necessary."  Vegeta's expression shifted to a nasty smile.  "Are you not scared of royalty, then?"

Occoli froze.  What was the right answer?  _Well, the Prince has killed for showing fear, so I'd better avoid that route._  "No…no sire," he managed to splutter.  

"You're not scared of royalty…Occoli?"

"No, sire."

In a blur, Vegeta had the young man pinned against the wall, teeth bared in a display of aggression.  Occoli panicked as the dark warrior slowly choked off his air supply with one hand.  "Well," his smile turned sadistic and he leaned in close, "you should be."  Vegeta then released the messenger, and left the room.  

Occoli lay on the floor, crumpled, struggling for breath as the acidic smell of ammonia struck his sensitive nose.  Quickly removing his shirt, he cleaned both the floor and his pants stain up from his release.

_________________

Vegeta stalked down the hallway to the War Room, moderately annoyed that he had been disturbed over this "False Saiyan" problem.  They have no power, why couldn't they just send a first-class over and have him wipe them out?  As others in the corridor hastily bowed toward the Prince, Vegeta lifted his chin imperiously.  Bah, why is there all the trouble?

Aggressively slapping his open palm onto the control, Vegeta waited as the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.  Scanning the room, Vegeta recognized some of the top battle minds and warriors in the room along with his father.  Aside from the King, the rest of the crew paused to quickly bow to the Prince, who responded by snorting in impatience.  "Father, why have you summoned me?" Vegeta questioned in a bored tone.

The King creased his eyebrows together.  "It seems as if the False Saiyans are going to be harder to defeat.  And," he paused as a wave of disgust crawled over his face, "there appears to be Saiyan sympathizers."  

Vegeta's nostrils flared.  "Sympathy?  From a Saiyan?  You must be mistaken."

Nappa suddenly stood, his bulk gaining attention.  "I say kill the weaklings who side with the False Saiyans!  Wipe both troubles off the planet!"

A general murmur followed, as everyone mulled the outburst over. 

_________________

Outside the War Room, a lone Saiyan guard stood to dissuade people through force to not enter the room.  He was bored, and spent the time idly forming ki balls in his hand only to reabsorb the energy again.  When he saw another Saiyan come up dressed in the guard uniform, he perked up.  Finally!  Someone to talk to!

"Hey, I'm here to relieve you," the new guy casually stated.

"Really?"  The guard was puzzled.  He wasn't scheduled for relief for another two hours.  "I hadn't heard of that before now."  

"Yeah, boss wants you to roam the halls."

The guard paused.  He had never seen this new guy before.  But, if it meant getting out of standing here…  "Thanks.  See ya."  Pushing off the wall, the guard left to go harass some of his friends down in the mess hall.

"Too easy," the man with a scar over one eye muttered under his breath.  He leaned against the wall, appearing as if to be on guard.  Slipping one hand into his sleeve, he pulled out a small wire with a suction cup on the end and attached it to the wall.  His eyes darted around to make sure no one saw him, and once reassured, he tucked a tiny earpiece into his ear, and tapped a small button.  

"…wipe both troubles off the planet!"  

Yamucha tried not to smile as he listened in on the conversation in the War Room through Bulma's device.  Those Saiyans would never know what hit them.

_________________

"No, you idiot!" the King cried.  "We can't sit here and spend our time dividing our forces between deriving who is and is not sympathetic to the cause!  We have to focus on the False Saiyans!  Stop them, and we stop the condolences!"  

A younger man with dark, wild hair rose next.  Obviously a first class warrior, his stature and appearance all suggested that he had been raised well.  "They have a defensive shield in place.  It blocks energy attacks, so we cannot just stand back and blow them away."

Vegeta growled, impatient.  "Then we have to fight hand to hand.  Fine."  Leaning over, he slapped his hand on the mat.  "Where is their leader located?"

The general to his right pointed to a mountainous range on the map.  "Here.  In this valley."

Vegeta smirked.  "How stupid can they be?' he taunted.  "They deliberately position themselves on the low ground?  They are begging for our slaughter!"

Another general shook his head.  "It's not that easy, your Highness.  They are using the mountains as a natural defensive shield, and the morale is on their side."    

A sneer crept its way onto Vegeta's face.  "Who is their leader?"  

Fishing in his briefcase, the warrior brought out a blurry photo of Bulma.  "Her, sire.  She is their leader."

"They have a female as their commander?" the King laughed.  "Perhaps it is not a problem with the False Saiyans, it is a problem with my fighters," he observed, letting the threat hang unspoken.

Face drawn tightly, Vegeta rose.  "Remove the leader, you rip the morale.  I will personally go and bring her back alive."

"Alive?  Why not kill the puny thing?"

"Because," Vegeta's eyes gained a malicious glint, "I want to make sure she fully understands why she cannot win.  I strike their base in a week.  Fly in hard and fast.  And alone."  

_______________

Outside, a suction cup was deftly removed, and a spy flew off to report what he had heard.

K. Nightwing:  Trust me, that emotion will return with a vengeance once Bulma and Vegeta meet.  I have to craft the whole "war is bleak" thing first, tho.  And besides, it'll remind you more of CoE soon.  (Impassive, cold Trunks meets hostile girl.  Emotions ensue.  Course, it'll be love here where it wasn't there, but that's beside the point.)  I'm glad you're catching where I slip, tho.  And that you review!  Sheesh.  And when you gonna update?  


	3. Preparations and Hustles

Stuffing the Saiyan clothes back into a small bag, Yamucha continued his flight back to the base.  First, he would tell Roshi that he only had a week to snap the main fighters into shape, and then he would tell Bulma that their time span had been considerably shortened.  As he entered the edges of the human settlements, he let out a breath he had been unconsciously holding.  Yamucha was no fool; he knew that if he were to be discovered, he wouldn't have a prayer fighting against the Saiyan elite.     

Letting his body dip to the right, he turned towards the separate island that Master Roshi had inhabited.  As he came closer, he could see a few people standing outside, mechanistically repeating basic moves in an elaborate pattern.  As he touched down, he could make them out finally.  Krillin, his friend and the most powerful False Saiyan looked as if he had been working the hardest, due to the sweat cascading down his face.  Next to him, Kentaro, a genial man whose light hair and eyes made it very obvious that he was far removed from the original Saiyan parentage. On the far right, Toshiro, a quiet blond that moved deceptively quick.  It was said that once, he outran a Saiyan elite.  For that alone, Toshiro had become somewhat of a cult hero.  When Toshiro voluntarily severed his tail, the few humans that had been born with tails had removed theirs, as well.

And there, next to Master Roshi, his wife stood, Yumiko.  Yamucha though he'd never live to see the day when the old pervert actually acquired a wife.  But, there she was, a fighter in her own respect.  Young, athletic, helpful --and without a lick of sense about her.  Yamucha shook his head sadly.  If the Prince himself suddenly appeared in front of their ragtag group, Yamucha held no doubt that Yumiko would challenge the Prince to a fight.  No, the concept of self-preservation was completely lost on that girl.  _Maybe that's why she married Roshi.  No sense, that girl._

Roshi held his hand up, signaling for the training to break.  The fighters collapsed onto the soft grass, too tired to make it inside the modest home to get some water.  "Yes, Yamucha, what have you learned?"  

Yamucha placed a stoic mask on his face.  Honestly, he doubted their chances, but if he showed fear, it would spread like wildfire.  "We have a week.  The Prince is going to try to capture Bulma in a week, no doubt to execute her publicly."  

Sighing, Roshi stared out over the span of water encircling his home.  He breathed in the salty air, and slowly exhaled.  "Then we have little time.  You will start your training immediately."

"I'll return as soon as I tell Bulma."

"No.  No time.  Yumiko?"

"Yes?"

"Take the message to Bulma that we have a week before the Prince strikes."

Yumiko almost spat fire.  "You're just trying to take me out of the fight!  Those bastards killed my family, and you want to deny me the right to fight them!  No way!"  

Roshi hardened.  "You have more than your revenge to worry about!  I need Yamucha training!"

Eyes narrowing, Yumiko crossed her arms over her chest.  "Fine.  But we will talk when I return."  Without another word, she blasted off into the sky.

Krillin snickered.  "Someone's got couch duty tonight."

Roshi frowned.  "Krillin, go run around the island one hundred times while I think of what we need to train next."

Krillin grumbled, and stood.  Dragging one foot in front of the other, he began making the circles around the island.

________________________

"Bulma!  Bulma!"  Yumiko growled softly in frustration.  "Where the heck are ya?"  Landing, she began to walk the halls.  "Bulma!  Show your blue devil hide!"  

"What is it?"  A greasy Bulma stepped out of a side room, her tattered clothes and disheveled hair suggesting that she had been working on something.  "Yumiko!  What drags you out here?"

"Slight problem.  Yamucha says that Princy-boy's coming in one week to grab you."  

Bulma raised one eyebrow.  "Then why isn't Yamucha here to tell me?"

"Got caught up training."

"Ooh!" Bulma fumed.  "How dare he ignore me like that!"

 "Sorry, sweetie.  Got a plan?"

Bulma pursed her lips.  "Only the same one as before.  We're just going to have to speed it up.  Tell Roshi that we need his fighters trained for catch and grabs."

Yumiko nodded.  "Right.  Need anything before I'm off?"

A twinge of mirth shone in Bulma's eyes as she disappeared into the side room again.  "Just for the Prince of All Saiyans to stick his tail up his ass."

Yumiko laughed.  "Can do, boss!"  She mock-saluted, and took off, back to train further.

____________________________

"Your highness.  Please.  Reconsider this, you don't have to go alone."  

Now hours before Vegeta had planned on leaving to capture Bulma, one of his aides was trying to convince the surly Prince to take an army with him for backup.  As the Prince donned his armor, the aide paced around, trying to delicately nudge the Prince to change his stance.  But, as he well knew, it would be akin to changing the tides.

"Are you saying that I am too weak to handle a few False Saiyans?" Vegeta spat, as if the notion were inconceivable. 

"No, no!" the aide frantically backpedaled.  "You are the most valued asset of this Kingdom.  And no matter how indestructible the asset is, you always take extra precaution with it, your highness."

Vegeta spun around, snarling.  "Did my father or his fighters take precautions with me when I was learning how to fight?"  He unhinged the breastplate to show his back.  "Did I get these scars through careful eyes and attentive medics?"  Clipping the armor back together, Vegeta continued.  "I can handle myself."  

"Of course, your highness."

Vegeta sighed, and began to pull on his boots.  "Are you planning on agreeing with everything I say, weakling?"

The aide's eyebrow rose fractionally.  _Always agree.  _"Yes, your highness," he sheepishly stated.

Without even glancing up from his footwear, Vegeta raised a hand and ki blasted the man into a thousand myriad pieces.  "I hate yes-men."  

Just then, the metal door slid open, and the hulking form of Nappa ducked inside.  "Your maps are ready, sire."

"Good.  Leave them on the table.  I leave in one hour."

__________________

"Bulma, you ready to go?"  

"Yup," Bulma shouted over the commotion inside the fortified base as people dashed their way through the corridors, scurrying to their assigned locations.  "Just gotta make these last-minute location assignments."  

Yamucha impulsively leaned over and kissed her.  "No matter what happens, remember that."

"Just don't get yourself killed, all right?  I need you front line for all of this."

A red flash of color and a piercing siren split the eardrums of the occupants.  As everyone turned in horror, a voice echoed over the loudspeaker.  "Prince Vegeta has been spotted on the outskirts.  Five minutes until arrival!"

Bulma looked up at Yamucha.  "Better hit your mark.  Good luck."

"I won't let him take you."

__________________

Chuckling, Vegeta dismissed the towers that spiraled up past him as useless decoration.  _This is going to be a cakewalk._

AN Part 2:

K. Nightwing:  Hell, I write this for you and me now.  No one else reads the darn thing, so hey!  Sorry, no B/V meeting this chapter.  Next one, I promise.  I don't think this story's going to be as angsty as Cleaving was.  More drama and action oriented.  But, you never know.  Something always comes up. :)  

And does Yamucha really need his butt kicked?  I mean, he's going to lose the girl already.  We all know that. ;)  I don't think Veggie mellows out really until fatherhood.  And even then…  I'm trying to make it as logical a transition I can from the Veggie here to the one you see in Cleaving.   And for that, we have to properly establish his ruthless nature.  

OK, time for you to update again!


	4. Captured!

AN:  I still own nothing.  Absolutely, positively, stinkin' nothing.  I'm stuck on Operetta, but this story's coming out easily.  Sigh.

A translucent green eyepiece shone above the railing of the spiraling, pointed tan tower.  Flashing numbers and locations, the man holding the eyepiece shook in fear from behind his hiding place below the rails.  He looked up, saw that the numbers had peaked, and tapped a small button next to him that signaled an alarm inside the compound and a silent warning to the hidden fighters.  It was their turn now.

________________

Vegeta cocked his head, enjoying the view.  As much as he hated to admit it to himself, the False Saiyan colonies did contain some sort of aesthetic beauty.  No matter, beauty was expendable.  Peering down, he saw the compound that must house their base equipment, and their leader.  Arcing towards it, he noticed a lone figure standing at the end of a valley.  He squinted, and recognized her as the False Saiyan leader.  _Probably thinking she was safe observing from there while I attacked the compound.  No one outsmarts the Prince of all Saiyans.  _

Pivoting in midair, Vegeta pointed his body towards the blue-haired female.  _I'll show her._

________________

Bulma half-turned her body towards the oncoming Prince.  Looking up, she saw him rapidly descending upon her.  He was much more fearsome in person than in spy pictures and royal tapestries.  She could feel her resolve begin to crumble, and steeled herself against running.  The only way she had a shot was to not run into the building.  _For our families, for our life, this is it._

________________

Vegeta smirked as the female came into plain sight.  Increasing his speed a bit, he prepared himself to grab her and take off again in one swoop.  If he could take her out from right under their noses, it would destroy their hopes of recovery.  He stretched out his arms in front of him, and made eye contact with the girl.  Their gazes locked, Vegeta smirked harder.  It was all too…A flash in front of his eyes and a clamp on his wrist made him stop.     

Pulling up sharply in midair, he frantically looked around to see what had happened.  Once he turned his head behind him, another rush of air swept by him, and another clamp encircled his other wrist.  Suddenly feeling a bit dizzy, he shook his head to clear it, and began feeling for large powers near him.  Not finding any, he resorted to scanning with his eyes.  Growling in frustration, he yelled, "Show yourselves!" to the seemingly deserted ground beneath him.  

Simultaneously, two more bursts came up toward his feet, one from each alleyway on either side of him.  Vegeta turned, and attempted to power up, but was hampered by something that made him weak and ineffectual.  Unable to move quickly, he could only kick wildly as a bald man and a dark-haired man snapped two more metal cuffs onto each of his ankles, and dropped off onto the opposite alley.  

This proved to be too much for Vegeta, as he felt his energy rush out of him.  He turned to face Bulma, and dove down towards where she stood, still immobile, and still with a blank expression.  Letting everything go, his tail unwound from around his waist, and he used his remaining energy to make an attempt at grabbing her.  Their eyes locked, he came closer, and closer.  He almost reached her, his fingers brushed her arms, and he smiled.  Then, the clamp trapped his tail, stealing the last bit of energy.  He promptly dropped, collapsing on his face, the gravel from the floor embedding itself in his cheek and cutting his palms.

Pushing himself to his knees, he looked up into Bulma's face.  She pulled her hand out from behind her, and produced a collar of similar material to the other cuffs he had on.  She calmly stepped forward, and latched it around his corded neck.  He panted in exhaustion; the effort of keeping his head up was almost too much.  Virtually all his ki was gone, just enough to live off of remained.  

He felt two pairs of hands grab under his arms and roughly hoist him to a standing position.  Too weak to fight back, Vegeta just stared defiantly at the blue-haired beauty.  She tilted her head to one side, pulled a needle out, and injected him with a clear substance.  

"Goodnight, sweet Prince."

And then his world turned black.

_______________________

Slowly exhaling, Vegeta sat up.  Trying to shake off the drug-induced fog, he rubbed his face with his palms before slowly opening his eyes.  He squinted against the harsh lighting, and blinked a few times before things came into focus.  He had been placed in a bare holding cell of some sort, devoid of even a bed.  Looking around, he saw no bars to hold him in place on the front part of his enclosure.  

Dragging himself to his feet, he stood, and walked up to the front, only to be shocked, and thrown back against the back wall.  Landing with a sickening thud, Vegeta narrowed his eyes.  What in the…?

"Don't bother.  It's specially made to keep you in, Vegeta."  Rounding the corner, Bulma strode in, Yamucha right behind her.  She walked up to the wall, and smiled at her captive.  "I made it myself.  Like it?"

"I'll kill you where you stand!" Vegeta roared back, furious at her audacity.  

"But you've got no energy.  Those nice little decorations?  They're made to deaden ki.  You couldn't even light a fire right now."

"Then I'll do it with my bare hands!"  He leapt up, and ran headfirst into the energy barrier again, which once more threw him backwards.

Bulma laughed.  "Right.  And how you gonna do that, Veggie?  That little barrier won't let you, and you don't have enough ki to destroy the walls.  Which are extra reinforced just in case one of those cuffs fails, anyway." 

Vegeta growled low in his throat.  "I am your Prince, and you will treat me as such!"

"Not here, you're not.  You're in my territory now."

Yamucha fidgeted a bit.  "Bulma, I don't think it's a good idea to taunt him," he warned.

"Why not?  Not like he can do anything.  Isn't that right, Veggie?" she taunted.  

____________________

"Sire, the Prince has not returned from his mission yet.  Should we send a search party?"

"No.  We will wait.  If he was killed, I'm sure they will let us know.  And if he isn't, he will figure his way back.  We wait."

____________________

Throwing open the door, Bulma stepped outside where twin ships waited.  She frowned, and walked over to the control room.  "Why don't these ships have their last layer yet?  We need to get going soon!"

The attendant cowered a bit under Bulma's harsh yelling.  "We had a delay.  The materials just arrived ten minutes ago."  

Bulma exhaled sharply.  There were always delays.  "Have you found a habitable planet yet?"

The auburn-haired human nodded.  "Yes.  I believe it is the third planet from the sun in this galaxy."  He pulled up a star map of the Milky Way and zoomed in.  "The atmosphere and temperatures are compatible with human biology, and the planet seems abundant with resources."

"Good.  Any sentient life?"

"Nothing as advanced as we are.  There seems to be animal life in abundance, but no signs of gathered civilizations."  

Bulma sighed.  "I'd rather not mess with the natural evolution of the planet, but we've got to find a new planet.  If we lose, we need a new home."

"Have things gone well so far?"

"Yes.  We have the Prince.  We'll send an envoy to the Palace in four days."

"Good."

"Keep working on that planet, and alert me to any changes to the ships."

"OK."

AN2:  How many of ya'll expected that one?  Hehehehehehe.

Kahlan:  Look!  It's your B/V interaction!  Just not as you thought!  I'm so evil, I swear…  Chasing cute guys that continue to elude you, eh?  I hear ya on that one.  Maybe that's the real reason I made Bulma capture Vegeta…repressed desire for me to finally capture a certain guy…  Of course, I'd sincerely hope my captive doesn't go off the deep end like Veggie, tho.  

And I have a plan for Yamucha…I can't help it, I feel bad for him.  

And pull a George Lucas?  I hope my mush scenes actually are believable! ;)

Baby Buruma:  T'ank ya.

Vega:  Hey, the old pervert is always shafted.  He needed a wife at some point.  (And if he hadn't had a wife/girlfriend, how could he have a daughter in the sequel? ;)  )  Thanks for reading!


	5. An End and a Beginning

Vegeta leaned his temple against the cool, unforgiving wall of his cell.  The woman had come by twice, neither time missing an opportunity to taunt him for being caught.  Seeing that it was apparently safe, some of the other False Saiyans had also begun making snide, pointed comments.  Vegeta amused himself by slowly dismembering them in his mind.  Last was the woman.  She was always last.  And he was always the most careful when he dug out her heart with…

"So, Veggie, having fun yet?"

Growling, Vegeta hauled himself up to a standing position in an attempt to stare down the mocking blue-haired female.  "When I am freed, your blood shall be my first drink."

Bulma shook her head.  "Temper, temper.  Must work on that.  No way for a prince to behave, now is it?" she smiled sweetly.  

Vegeta pounded his fist against the cell front, only to have the energy rebound him.  "Damn you!"

"Right, right, right.  Damn me all you want, seems to me you're still the stuck one.  Oh, hey Yamucha."  The warrior had come up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist.  

"It's time, Bulma," Yamucha muttered regretfully.  

Bulma's eyes dropped to the floor, saddened.  "I wish you didn't have to.  Can't it be Krillin?"

"He's needed for any battles, and a fighter has to go on the ship to ensure our survival."

"But…"

"Don't make this harder."

Vegeta sneered.  "Aw, how touching.  A pair of sentimental fools.  You're perfect for each other.  Would you like for me to bury you in the same grave once I'm done killing you?"  

Bulma turned, furious, but Yamucha restrained her with a hand on her shoulder.  "Don't let him bother you, Bulma.  It's not worth it."  

Bulma forcibly released her breath and glared at the Prince before throwing her arms around Yamucha and burying her head into his broad chest.  "Don't leave me."  

Yamucha remained silent as he looked down the curving, metallic walls of the hall. After a moment, he spoke. "It'll be all right.  Eventually.  You'll pull through just fine.  You're a survivor."

"Not when I get through with her."  

Bulma stiffened and prepared to turn before Yamucha dropped his head on top of hers. "Don't let it become personal for him.  No fighter's as dangerous and reckless as when it's personal."

An impassive voice sounded over the loudspeakers wired throughout the complex.  "Ten minutes until Sovereignty One launches.  Everyone scheduled to be aboard please make your way to Terminal Five.  I repeat, ten minutes until launch."  

Bulma broke out into sobs that racked her small frame.  "Why?"  

Yamucha smiled a sad smile.  "Because it's for the greater good.  I love you, Bulma."  

He pulled her down for a long kiss, and Vegeta retched in the background.  As they broke, Yamucha smiled.  "Goodbye, my love.  I won't forget you."  He turned and began walking away, towards the hangar where the spaceship lay.  

Bulma called out, making Yamucha pause.  "What will you name that blue planet?"

"Earth.  I think I'll name it Earth."

_____________________________

"Damn it, where's the Prince?"  

"How am I supposed to know?  It's been a full day since he left for that damned False Saiyan base.  He could be anywhere on the planet by now!"  Nappa growled, and hurled a chair into the side wall, splintering it into pieces.  His frustration lessened a bit by the violent action, he took a deep breath.  "Why don't we just blow them all up?"

Cauli rolled his eyes before grinding out, "You know they have defenses, you idiot!  We can't just go blasting our way in there!"

"I've never met a defense that can stand against an Elite."

"And I've never met someone with as thick a skull as you, Nappa!  Maybe we can crack their shield with your head!"  

____________________________

Yumiko swirled and placed her hands on her hips.  "Roshi!  You planning on…oh…training me anytime soon?"  

Krillin stepped in to try to defend his master and calm down the currently furious Yumiko.  "In your condition, do you think it's wise?"

Eyes rolling and hands waving, she huffed, "I'm pregnant, you twit, not disabled!  And it's still going to be a long while before she's born.  You know that humans take longer than Saiyans, usually."

Roshi ducked his head in now that he no longer heard his wife yelling.  "She?"  

Yumiko shyly smiled.  "She.  I think she's a girl."  

"Really?"  Krillin exclaimed.  "That's great!  What are you going to name her?"

Eyes alighting with fire once again, Yumiko poked Roshi in the chest.  "Nothing if I don't get training to help us survive!  Damnit, I'm a fighter, not a bloody cheerleader!"  

"What if the Saiyans kill you in battle?" 

Flopping down on the couch, Yumiko noted Krillin's hasty departure before speaking again.  "And if I'm not killed in battle?  If the Saiyans win?  Would you rather I die a prisoner?  Or be a slave?  Or raped and left for dead?  I wouldn't put anything past those bastards!"  

"Even more the reason you should stay here!  Count on Bulma, she's got it under control."

"She's got an evil Prince of a powerful empire locked away in a tiny box."  Yumiko snorted ungracefully.  "I don't give it three days before it all blows up in her face."

_____________________________

"Your food, Princey-boy."  Sliding a metal tray through the barrier, Bulma served the Prince a mixture of gruel and corn, mashed together to create a sick gray substance.  "Eat up," said Bulma in a perky tone.

Vegeta turned up one corner of his upper lip.  "Let me guess.  Your best meal that you can prepare?"  

"Fine.  I'll take it out and you can starve.  I know that Saiyans will eat anything if they're hungry enough."   

Snorting, Vegeta lifted his chin imperiously before glancing at the barrier that separated him from the woman.  "How is it that the tray can come in, but I cannot go out?"

"Tray doesn't have a DNA structure," she stated proudly.  "Only your DNA sets it off."

"How did you get my DNA?  You're hardly Saiyan in looks.  In fact, you're quite ugly."

"I'm the most beautiful thing you'll ever see, Buster!" she yelled before calming down.  "You bleed enough in your daily sparring matches.  We just had someone steal one of the towels you used to mop yourself off."  

Nodding, Vegeta then turned his head away, indicating that the conversation was finished.  Once she had left, he looked down at his wrist cuffs.  He had just enough ki to survive, not enough to form a ki blast to escape or even cut the cuffs.  Slouching against the slick wall, he cradled his head against his knees.  He both wondered why the Imperial Guards had not arrived, and was glad they hadn't.  Their arrival would set him free, but at the price of his pride and honor.  Being bailed out was not something the Prince of all Saiyans required.  Especially from a weak female.  

"Damnit!" he swore out loud before collapsing into a heap.  Damn her and her technical strengths.  Damn her and her intelligence.  Damn her altogether.  Maybe he wouldn't kill her.  Perhaps she could be coaxed to work for the Palace.  Everyone has a price.  It would just take finding hers.

Of course, he would need to get out first.  And before the bargaining started.  If he were used as a bargaining chip, he might as well kill himself.  He would never be regarded as a true leader, for respect followed power.  His kingship would decimate the country, and win the battle for the False Saiyans in the end.  

Looking down at his hand, Vegeta sighed as he looked through it, trying to see something beyond his weakened power.  Then, and just then, he smirked.  Leaning back against the wall, he curled himself up into a protective ball.  Picking up the tray, he wolfed down the gruel, grimacing at its contents.  He needed his strength, though.  Tossing the tray away, he ducked his head and brought his hands into his lap before covering them with his drawn-up knees.  

Stilling his mind, he stared at his index finger.  He would escape, and he knew how to do it.

AN2:  No reviews?  Awwww…*sniff*

But, now we have my version of how people got to Earth, how they called themselves human, and how two distant populations can actually have kids together.  


	6. Blood on His Hands

Bulma sat, staring out at the buildings before her.  Each painted to reflect the personality of their owners, from plain beige to a shocking orange, the structures told a relatively short history of the False Saiyan race.  From little more than mud dried in the sun all the way to a polymer-based structure designed to take an impact that would shake apart continents, the buildings' continued existence belied the fierce resistance of the False Saiyans.

Most would argue that the Proper Saiyans were the more resilient of the two, but Bulma disagreed.  They had power, an established history, and a natural drive to fight.  The False Saiyans?  They had to make their own history, and do it without the immense force granted the elites by their birthright.  

But if it had been up to Bulma, she would have never known of the regular Saiyan's existence.  It was their own fault, she sneered, that they were now stuck with their Prince being captured.  It was their own fault that they were threatened by simple technology that they could have created themselves if they hadn't been so preoccupied with blowing each other up.  

Sighing, she stood and crossed the carpeted room to the opposite window.  Looking up to the sky, she thought about Yamucha and his journeys.  Would the travelers be able to set up a new colony?  A lone tear dripped down her face as the reality of the situation hit her all at once:  she was alone, in charge of a war she wanted nothing to do with, holding a deadly prince captive, while sending her only anchor off to a distant planet to ensure the survival of her people.

A selfish wave crashed, as she fought back the impulse to set Vegeta free and scamper off to join Yamucha.  Bulma was a selfish person at heart, all her actions and inventions were for glory and praise.  But, she couldn't afford to be selfish when thousands counted on her actions.  

"Bulma, girl, what are you going to do with the bastard?  Go talk to Princey-boy, he's me.  Not even acknowledging my presence."  The raven-haired girl huffed.  "As if he's too good to have some manners toward people."

Bulma turned, weary, toward the much younger girl.  "Chi-Chi, go train with Toshiro.  He's working on blurring after images of himself, I heard."  Bulma looked over at the girl, momentarily scared at the fierce look that was burning in the warrior woman's eyes.  Chi-Chi held a particularly fierce hatred of the Saiyans, as her mother, who was a half Saiyan, abandoned her.  To compensate, Chi-Chi had fueled all her anger into training.  And being a quarter Saiyan, her anger was particularly deadly.  However, she was a bit too young and brash to do the cause much good for now.  In a few years…  Bulma shuddered.  And the powers above protect anyone that threatened Chi-Chi's future children.  

Chi-Chi nodded, and took off.  Bulma picked up a set of blueprints, and walked toward Vegeta's cell.

___________________

"My King!  It has been days since the Prince's disappearance!  We must go find him!"  

"Where?" the King roared as he rose out of his throne.  "Where do you suggest we being looking?"

Nappa snorted.  "In those bastard False Saiyan camps.  If we blow everything up, the Prince should survive while those traitors die a swift death!"  

The King sneered.  "And if the Prince doesn't survive?  If he is injured or weakened somehow?"

"Then he isn't worthy of being the Prince."

_________________

"Hey, Jerkface, I have a question for you."  

Vegeta didn't even look up.  

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Vegeta continued sitting in a curled up position, arms cradled in along with his head against his knees.  

Huffing indignantly, Bulma sat down outside the chamber.  "Look.  I'm about to send a communication to the palace, informing them of the situation.  If you could be a good little boy and look up, maybe we could get you out of here faster."

Vegeta's head shifted a bit, indicating he was listening.  Bulma stood, feeling a sudden need to puff herself up in height.

"I need to know what channel the main palace's communication system runs on so I can broadcast.  Any chance you have enough brains in that empty head of yours to recall?"

A growl.  "Channel X524."  

"Good.  Now was that so hard?  Since you're in such a cooperative mood, I have a bargain to make with you.  If you tell me where the main generator is in the palace, I'll let you out of your cell.  The ki-dampeners will still be intact, but you'll be able to walk about.  Well?"

Vegeta looked up, meeting Bulma's eyes with his own.  A burning hatred shone through from the black depths of his eyes before he spit disgustedly into the far corner of his cell.  Standing up slowly, he stalked forward, keeping her eyes locked with his.  "The second you let me free, I will enjoy making you scream my name."  Taking his left hand, he trailed it down where her face would be if she were inches closer.  "You'll beg for mercy.  You'll plead me to stop, believing that the agony will never end.  And then, only then…"  He smiled predatorily as Bulma's breath caught.  "I'll end it by ripping the very breath from your body."  

Bulma began to retort, but couldn't as Vegeta moved his right hand over to his left arm.  Licking his lips, he dug his fingers into the flesh and ripped upwards in a slow motion.  Trails of red formed after the nails as Vegeta hissed in pain or pleasure.  Bulma stood, transfixed.  Vegeta then leisurely swiped his fingers up the path his nails had just taken, liberally coating the first two tips in his own dripping blood.  Raising the sodden fingers, he trailed them where he had pretended to caress before, leaving twin streaks of blood where Bulma's face was.  

It was a shocking sight; this clear barrier marred with bloody streaks as Vegeta cocked his head and bared his canines.  Bulma began to tremble in fear, but she remained paralyzed to the spot as Vegeta raised the cut to his mouth.  Without breaking eye contact, he began lapping up his own blood, preventing it from soaking his clothes.  Bulma watched as his tongue darted in and out, and her heart began to beat faster as her eyes remained locked with his.  

Without warning, he charged the barrier, causing a sparking reaction and him to be thrown back into the wall.  Bulma screamed in surprise, and ran off, hearing a mocking laughter coming from behind her.  

Vegeta looked down at his bloody index finger that was now beginning to show a faint glow.  One more day.  That was all he needed.  

_____________________

"Roshi!  I will find another trainer if I must, but I will train to fight the Saiyans!"

Roshi stomped back into the room.  "And if you create a miscarriage?"

"Is that worse than dying myself?  At least I'll die fighting!  It is my right to kill those who killed my family!"  

"And it's your responsibility to protect the life you carry!"

Yumiko sat down abruptly onto the couch.  "Once I give birth, I will go after the Prince.  Mark my words.  He will die by my hands."  

Roshi sat and draped his arm around his wound-up wife.  "Until then, please.  Think of our child."  His face brightening, he smiled.  "Have you thought of a name?"  

Shyly blushing, Yumiko ducked her head.  "I'm pretty sure it's a girl.  And if so, I want to name her Kameko."

Roshi's eyes widened.  "Kameko?  Child of the tortoise?"  He puffed out in pride.  "I like it."

______________

Back in her room, Bulma attempted to calm her breathing.  The nerve of that…  No matter.  It was time to send a message.  Gathering her scrambler equipment, she prepared to go to the Communications room as a blast rocked the building.  Dropping her armload, she sprinted outside, eyes darting about as she saw the warriors dashing to the shield generators.  "What happened?"

Michio stopped, clearly agitated, all formalities discarded.  "An Elite Saiyan warrior has broken through our outer defenses and is concentrating on our camp.  He wants to blast us from the ground up, shaking our walls down!  Get to a safe spot!"  With that, he ran off to throw himself onto a generator in an attempt to keep the encampment safe.  

Bulma panicked.  Where was safe from an attack that might puncture the defen… With resolution, she knew.  The safest spot was the most reinforced one.  And if her life was to be saved, she had to dive into the cell with Vegeta. 

_____________

AN2:  

Meeee:  Thanks!

Grand Admiral:  Sir, yes Sir!  *laughs*

And I'm sorry for being gone so long, everyone.  I haven't read or written anything for so long…  *sigh*  But I'm back!  


End file.
